Verala's Fate
by Cefor
Summary: A young sorceress that is drawn into the events surrounding Diablo's return is called Verala. Her magic is what keeps her sane and alive; nothing would tempt her to give it up... or would it? Based on the Diablo 2:LoD game, with a few twists. On Hold
1. Introduction: The Beginning of an Era

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything of Diablo II: Lords of Destruction; wouldn't be writing this if I did! I hope you like it.

**Chapter 1 – The Beginning of an Era**

A light drizzle was falling around the women standing guard at the bridge. Their breath steamed in front of their faces, the vapour clouding their vision slightly. A rumbling wagon approached the firelight at the other end of the bridge and one of the rogues called a halt.

Gaile turned to her companion,

"Go and tell Kashya that a caravan has arrived." The other woman nodded and ran into the camp. Gaile moved toward the caravan, squinting through the haze to see whom was driving.

"Greetings, rogue, I am but a humble caravan master seeking a warm fire."

The man that had spoken was huddled on the front seat of the wagon, his heavy cloak covering most of his features.

"Welcome to the Rogue Encampment, what are you called?" Gaile replied.

"Warriv is my name, and yours?"

"Gaile Swift-Arrow"

The old man smiled,

"That is a pretty name, Gaile. Now, how about that fire we talked about?"

Gaile couldn't help but smile at the caravan master, but she turned slightly to see if Fiona had returned with Kashya.

A fierce, middle-aged woman with fiery red hair was stalking over the bridge, Fiona at her side. Gaile stepped toward her and reported who, and what, it was.

The rogue leader nodded and called up to the man,

"You are welcome here, Warriv, there has been trouble recently. I trust you were safe during your journey here?"

At this the old man nodded and looked pointedly behind him. A slight figure rose up from the wagon bed and presented her staff.

"She goes by the name Verala. She just so happens to be a sorceress! She took care of any trouble we had." Warriv was obviously overjoyed with his guard, though he seemed to fear her. Kashya narrowed her eyes at the stranger, instantly taking a dislike to the woman who had not presented herself from the start.

Gaile was similarly distrustful of the woman, but she couldn't blame him for not mentioning her from the start. Some sorceresses have done bad things in the past, and not everyone greets them as warmly as a caravan master.

Kashya waved the caravan in and told him to set up his camp near the centre of the encampment, it would be easier to keep an eye on the strange visitor that way; but she didn't mention that.

-O-

Verala was silently studying the rogues. She tended to feel out a person by looking at them, not always resorting to her power to do so. The general feel of the camp was weariness and guarded mistrust. She knew instantly that the rogue's leader didn't like her, or trust her, and the feeling was mutual with the other rogues, there were however a few others in the camp that did not seem as apprehensive as the rogues themselves;

_Interesting,seems like we are not the only visitors._

When Warriv had set up his tent near the centre of the encampment, and she had set her own beside his, she spoke to him. He mentioned that Tristram had been attacked, Diablo himself was rumoured to walk the land again.

"Of course that was the least of the problems here, something has happened at the monastery which guards the pass further up the road; the doors are sealed shut." Verala was surprised, she hadn't heard this in Westmarch. "Aye, they say that Andariel has turned." He rubbed his beard, "when the pass opens again I will gladly take you on to Lut Gholein, like we originally agreed."

"Thank you, Warriv." Verala smiled and bowed her head to the man.

-O-

Verala knew that it was around midday, but it was as dark as night; ferocious cloud cover and murky fog surrounded the camp and the moors. Across the camp torches burnt, casting a meagre orange glow over the tents and the guardian rogues. The torches themselves were almost barbaric in nature, three simple poles tied together at the top to form a pyramid , smaller sticks were positioned horizontally at the bottom of the three poles to create a sturdy frame. On top of this frame was a rudimentary metal bracket that housed the flame.

_Interesting how the flame doesn't seem to burn anything._

Verala looked about the camp, sitting on her chest, hoping to see something that was cheery, full of life. Instead she saw the angry glares of off-duty rogues, and the suspicious glances of those on guard.

_They distrust me. Good._

She stood up after whispering a quick spell; the stares around her told her that it had worked. She had cast a spell that made the illusion of her suddenly appearing to be stood upright, rather than sat huddled on the chest. Inwardly she smiled, this would be a good day.

She grabbed her staff and made as if to walk towards the back of the camp, but the fire-headed rogue from the bridge called to her, sounding rather unpleasant.

"Sorceress! We have to talk." Verala thought about ignoring the woman, but the nocked arrows around her told her it would have been a very bad idea.

She turned towards the advancing rogue leader, allowing her hair to whip into a frenzy from a sudden gust of wind.

"You wish to talk, Rogue?" _I shall belittle her as she does me._

"You know who am I, you were in the caravan while I was talking with Warriv, an honourable man; and yet you sat there without identifying yourself until the very last moment! You disgust us with your dishonour."

She moved as close to Verala as physically possible, "_ I _am the leader of the Rogues, Akara is just the figure-head. Even if you have her trust, you will not have mine. I can only trust those that have proven themselves beyond a doubt that they serve the purpose of the Rogues."

"Very well, Kashya was it? I shall be mindful of your... our talk." She turned and walked towards a tent at the back of the camp that had a young woman blacksmith stood outside.

"Watch yourself, Sorceress."


	2. Childhood, Death and Resurrection

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from Diablo, they belong to Blizzard. OC's are mine though :)

**Chapter 1 – Childhood, Death and Resurrection**

Some time later Warriv found the young woman sitting on the bridge, her feet dangling towards the water.

"Ho there!" He called as he reached the stonework.

Verala turned as the old man put a hand on her arm, looking vacant for a moment before smoothing her features to a passive observant.

"Greetings, old man, what brings you to me?" Warriv chuckled at her words,

"I just came to talk to the young, strange woman that occasionally looks very far away." She frowned, he had seen her looking into the distance more than this once it seemed.

"I only think of my life, how it could have been, how it should have been." She flashed him a rare smile, he was moved by her beauty for a second, then he again took up his assumed role of father-figure; just like he had a week ago in Westmarch.

"Come, there is a foul air tonight, and I would not like for my favourite Sorceress to be harmed." He gently tugged at her robe and pulled her arm before she gave in and followed him,

"You know that I can take care of myself Warriv, you do not need to think of me as a vulnerable child."

"I know." He sighed, "but I cannot help but see the helpless child that you could have been, you are barely old enough to have to look after yourself."

She gave him a glare,

"I will have you know, I am eighteen years at the beginning of the cold season. It is not far off." She glanced to the heavens, the omnipresent clouds covering the whole world it seemed. A chill had crept over the land over the past week, the beginning of winter in the Western Kingdom.

They both sat next the fire by their tents, a warm mug of soup in their cold hands.

"Warriv, for the last week the only two people I have talked to have been you and Charsi, is there anyone else in this forsaken camp that _doesn't _hate me?"

He looked troubled for a moment and spoke his next words slowly, wishing he didn't have to utter them,

"There is one other who would speak with you." Verala narrowed her eyes and looked about, every pair of eyes she met were hostile. "Her name is Akara. She is the high-priestess, and she has wanted to speak to you since the moment you arrived."

Verala jumped up with a shout,

"You knew? You knew that there was one other that would actually talk with me?" He was sorry to have upset her, but there was no other choice. At times she could act cold and callous, generally unconcerned with the attitude of the many rogues in the camp; but there was another side of her that did care, and it hurt her to think that so many would refuse her simple things like friendship.

"Verala, there is a reason she wants to speak to you; a reason that I cannot with good conscience accept." He stood and placed a hand on her cheek, he wiped a tear away with his thumb. "She would have you do her bidding, go out and kill the monsters that roam the lands." He turned away, not before she saw a glint in the corner of his eye.

"Warriv, I have to help. It will get us both to Lut Gholein, right?" She tried to smile her magnificent smile, but it was more of a grimace.

"Go then, I shall keep you in my thoughts and prayers."

She nodded and gulped the last of her meal before walking towards where he mentioned. As she drew closer she saw up close the many potions and vases that were scattered about the tent. The tent itself was little more than a collection of hides draped over a sturdy frame. Inside there were many coloured bottles, blue, red, green, orange and purple. A stove set just past the opening was alight and a pot of water was bubbling.

She saw a woman seated by the stove, humming a monotone and making familiar motions over the liquid. Verala waited nearby, conscious of breaking the woman's concentration. Before she had appeared to finish the woman spoke to her,

"So, the old man has allowed you to see me, then." Verala frowned again, and made a slight shaking motion with her hand before trying to speak.

"No... He..."

"There is no need to explain yourself to me, sorceress." Akara smiled and rose from her seat, arms spread wide. "I welcome you to the Rogue Encampment, Verala." She moved forward and gave her a hug, lightly brushing her cheek against the younger woman.

Verala was almost overwhelmed, and the stronger side of her inner-self came out.

"Finally, a decent welcome, it only took a week." She returned the gesture, without warmth. "The old man spoke to me about your wishes, or what he knew of them."

Akara noted the change in the young woman, but carried on nonetheless.

"Yes, he came to see me just after you both arrived actually. I happened to mention an interest in your talents, and he became very defensive." She frowned at the memory before sweeping down on her potion-making again. "Yes, Verala, you are without a doubt a talented soul, to be a guard for a caravan in these times is no low feat." Verala nodded almost imperceptibly, silently pleased with the praise. "I am the high-priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye. Recently a great curse befell our order. The great Citadel that guards the gate to the East was corrupted by the evil demoness, Andariel. I can scarcely believe it, but she has turned many of our sisters against us. The rest of them are either dead or scattered among the wilderness." She paused for a moment, judging the young sorceresses thoughts before continuing her carefully planned speech, "we will need all the help we can as we attempt to lift this curse; anyone that does so will have us indebted to them, eternally." Here she grabbed a small dagger from the ground near her tent.

"There is a great evil nearby, a cave that a scout of Kashya informed me of; I believe that the mass of monsters and demons there are planning an attack on this encampment." She presented the dagger, which Verala now recognised as a small sword, "I want you to find this labyrinth and destroy any creature you find."

Verala took the weapon and closed her eyes, her magical senses probed the metal, she found traces of demon-kind and, more disturbingly, innocents' blood.

"I will wipe their kind," she shook the sword, "from the face of Sanctuary."

Akara nodded,

"May the Great Eye watch over you."

A shower of rain started as Verala walked over the bridge, she tucked the two scrolls she had brought with her further into her robe, hoping they wouldn't get wet. At the end of the bridge she turned and saw a figure stood in the centre of the opening of the camp, it raised a hand in salute, or farewell. She raised her hand, holding her staff up, before turning to face the moors.

_The Blood Moors. When will I meet my first taste of what the great Diablo has to offer I wonder?_

She started to jog down the path, squinting through the rain and darkness. She had gone barely further than the length of the camp when she saw the first ones.

The lumbering figures were as tall as men, but walked with a shambling gait, usually dragging at least one of their legs. The rotting stench that preceded their path was horrid enough to make her gag, and her eyes to water. Coming to a stop she concentrated on the power that the staff held, and a burning bolts of flames seared towards the undead. It burst like liquid fire over the first one and it fell to the ground, charred beyond all recognition. The second turned towards her, slowly advancing with a snarl that promised agony. She had never been one to take pain, so she laughed as she sent another fire bolt towards the rotting corpse. It hit the creature's shoulder and it kept coming, without the left hand side of it's body. She scowled and sent another flaming bolt, this time running behind it and as the fire engulfed the ex-man she swung her staff in an arc, the dead body fell to the ground and stayed down.

She started a slow jog again, following the path as she sought the corrupted place she had been told of. She didn't slow when she saw the next monsters, letting off two firebolts per creature, and continuing on; regardless of the dead bodies that fell around her. Some she just hit with her staff, they fell just as easily, but occasionally she would have to duel the undead; parrying crushing blows from unnaturally strong arms while hitting back with all her strength.

She was growing more and more confident as she went, easily recognising the weaknesses of the monsters and dispatching them quicker and quicker. But she skidded to a halt, almost slipping into the muddy waters around her when she saw the seething mass of red-bodied demons running towards her. Once more she was the innocent young woman, scared for her life. One of the little demons screamed something incomprehensible, it made her laugh and that made her realise that the creatures were nothing compared to her awesome power.

She held her left hand towards the oncoming horde, closed her eyes and visualised her power inside of her, a glowing blue ball of pure energy, like a miniature sun in the darkest recesses of her being. She drew multiple strands of the power towards her conscious mind, shaping them as she went. When she had drawn enough power she opened her eyes, the demons were one step closer, and spoke a single word.

Fire bolts screamed from her palm, one after the other, again and again, the paths of the missiles left trails across her vision, but the Fallen were gone, smoking corpses littered the ground around her, many had fled after seeing their fellow demons fall at her hand. Verala revelled in the power she felt flow through her. She felt more powerful than ever before.

-O-

Verala stepped into the darkness and let her senses roam. A stench rolled towards her, it was almost unbearable; the smell of death. She moved further in and saw the walls expand outwards, the ceiling was never more than the height of two men.

Three openings presented themselves to her, shrouded in darkness, the only light she could see was the torch at the entrance to the cave itself, the pool of light barely reaching the whole of this cave. She reached for her power and willed it into being. A small light seemed to emanate from her body, lighting the way sufficiently. She could hear nothing but the drip of water, echoing endlessly through the cave system. She chose the right hand tunnel, the smell was easiest to bear here. The passage ended after twenty steps, the corpse of a woman, no doubt a rogue, was laid on the floor. Verala nudged her with a foot; she saw a pile of coin underneath the body. Avoiding the blade stuck out of the corpses chest she grabbed the few coins and pocketed them.

_I might as well, not as if she needs it._

She returned to the first cave and chose the next exit, this tunnel smelled; badly. Advancing warily she edged around a corner, a group of undead were milling about, moaning and creaking. She stepped out and threw a couple of fire bolts at them, a flash of light lit the tunnel and blinded both Verala and the undead. She shut her eyes, put one hand over them and used the other to launch more fire bolts down the passageway. When she opened her eyes she saw smouldering remains and a few burns on the walls.

She was glad that her momentary blindness had not cost her more dearly, her vision was blurry, and filled with tears; otherwise, she was unharmed.

She carried on down the tunnel, it sloped downwards and water dripped from the ceiling.

_Tunnels underneath the moors... not the best of places to be._

She came across a huge cavern, it extended outwards from the tunnel opening for what seemed like forever. The majority of the monsters were stood in groups, the Fallen in particular. Mounds of skulls made her shed a small tear, the creatures of the dark had much to pay for.

A burning anger raged inside her, fuelling her desire of acceptance; this was her chance, people would be grateful for her help. She moved into the cave, stalking forward silently. She side-stepped the puddles and carefully manoeuvred around rocks, all the while keeping a lookout for stray Fallen that might spot her. When she was in a good position; on a ledge above the main group, hidden behind a group of boulders, she scrambled to the top of a larger rock and quickly threw fire in all directions.

The Fallen had barely any time to react, many were killed in the first wave of fire bolts, the ones that survived picked up weapons and swarmed towards the strange figure throwing fire. They were cursing and screaming blasphemous words, fuelling Verala on to even greater magical feats, she didn't stop throwing fire towards the little cretins, murder burned in her eyes.

When she first saw light engulf the fallen demon that she had only just charred to a crisp, and then saw it spring up and run towards her again she could not believe it. Nothing in the world had the power to reanimate dead bodies to their original state, they had promised!

Verala was shocked, but she never stopped the barrage of flame that kept the creatures at bay, she barely had to move; but one had managed to sneak behind her. It threw itself onto her back and clawed at her head, she struggled to keep her balance, and toppled to the ground. She landed in a large depression, it was filled with water and for a moment breathed in the foul stuff. She was drowning. Drowning in the foulest of waters.

_Mother... If onl..._

Air! Dank, reeking, beautiful air was drawn into her lungs. She heaved and hunched forward, her hair hanging around her head, water gushing from her nose and mouth. Noises behind her reminded her of her predicament. She spun around while struggling to breath, hand outstretched, ready to throw fire in the face of the horrible little demons.

A woman was there, attacking the demons. She was dressed in black, a hard leather breastplate and a leather cap. She was twirling through the air, somersaulting over the demon kin and thrusting one of the two strange swords she carried into the monsters. She occasionally kicked the creatures away, and a small blast of power sent the creature flying into the dark.

Once the nearby demons had been dispatched she turned to Verala and picked her up off the damp ground.

"Lucky I was here. Come on, we need to kill the shaman. He can bring them back to life." She turned and sprinted towards the bonfires in the middle of the gigantic cavern. Verala scrambled to grab her staff and follow the strange woman. She saw that her swords were actually blades attached to handles she held in her closed fist.

_She just punches the enemy, but that blade is what hits them, not her fist._

Verala torched an undead as it tried to hit the woman whom had engaged two massive creatures simultaneously. She aimed for the heads and sent two fire bolts at each one, they fell and the blade of the rescuer sliced open their throats. Carrying on they came across a larger group of Fallen, and at the back of the group were three red-skins with staffs, highly decorated with quills and bones.

"There they are! Careful of their..." the woman's words were cut short by flaming bolts that were sent towards them, the shamans could use magic.

Verala quickly dodged the fireballs and sent some of her own, one hit its mark but the two others had managed to run away from the oncoming magic assault. The other woman threw something at the massed demons and it exploded. Fire was everywhere! The Fallen were being resurrected as they died, and they seemed unending. Verala just kept swinging her staff, kept up the hail of fire as often as she could stop to breathe.

A cry of elation rent the air, overwhelming even the sounds of clashing swords and dying demon kind. The other woman ran back to Verala.

"We killed the last of the Fallen. Well done, you are skilled." Verala nodded with thanks.

"I was grateful for your help, thank you, stranger." The stranger smiled and sheathed the two blades, their scabbards were wrapped around her thighs.

"I am called Kirin among friends." She held out a hand, Verala put hers in the offered hand, "You may call me Kirin if you like." Verala smiled, this strange woman thought of her as a friend already!

"Thank you, Kirin, I am called Verala." Kirin nodded, gave her hand a final squeeze before letting it drop. "Kirin, I have a task; ridding this cave of all creatures and demons. I would..."

"I'll help." Verala bowed her head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened.

"I...Ah..." She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Kirin just nodded and turned to walk to another tunnel at the back of the cavern. Verala shook herself mentally, gripped her staff tighter and followed the strange woman.

-O-

As soon as they entered the final cave they knew that their task was almost done. Spread out through the chamber were a multitude of undead, and all of them were glowing; a strange icy blue hue emanating from their cores. The breath of the two women frosted as it left their mouths, the ground was covered in patches of ice and it crunched under their feet. Verala could feel her joints stiffening, and she tried to warm herself up by rubbing her arms. It worked, slightly. Kirin was not as susceptible to the cold, but she was shivering slightly.

Verala was almost uncontrollably shaking within a minute, she fell the ground with a muffled cry. Kirin crouched over her, hoping that nothing had heard the young woman fall. She looked down and saw that Verala's lips were turning blue.

_Not a good sign!_

As her sight dimmed, Verala could see her power. It glowed intensely inside of her, the blue strands were reaching out. They brushed her conscious and went to work. A warmth spread throughout her body, warming the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers and the top of her head. Her sight brightened, the shaking subdued to shivers and she could move her limbs again. As she sat up a light dusting of frost fell from her face, ice crystals fell from her eye lashes and suddenly her eyes were bright again.

"Verala! Oh, I thought you had left me." Kirin strained to keep her voice down.

"Don't worry Kirin, I cannot leave just yet."

New found warmth giving her confidence she stood and strode towards the undead, obviously the centre of evil to be found within the moors. As the warmth spread through her whole body Verala had new courage. She felt stronger than the world and it felt _good_.

The undead had spotted her, and they gathered together in a phalanx, obviously used to working together. She scorned their attempts at making defensive positions, she screamed and threw multiple fire bolts towards the creatures. Kirin ran past her and threw her own additions to the flames, drawing her blades when she reached the closest monster. She spun and lobbed it's head off, it was graceful, almost a dance. She slipped past their defences, under blows that would have shattered her skull and struck with unerring precision. Verala followed in her wake, finishing off the weakened lumps of decaying flesh and bones.

Suddenly there was only one left. It stood still, watching them, sizing them up. A fey chill crept outwards from the ugly thing, it was trying to freeze them to the spot. Verala was unaffected, her innate power was keeping her warm. Kirin, however, was starting to feel the effects; she couldn't move, her muscles had seized. Verala didn't realise until the undead creature lunged forward and struck a sickening blow to Kirin's chest. She was flung to the side and smashed into the wall. She fell down to the ground, probably dead. Verala cried out,

"No! Kirin!" She turned towards the undead creature again, it seemed to be grinning, sure of victory. "Bastard! How dare you hurt her."

Verala brought her hands together, the staff held between them. She closed her eyes and looked inside herself, she was instantly beside her energy, her power, it was bigger than before and it was glowing even more fiercely. She willed it to give her all she could take. She pulled hundreds of strands to her conscious, held them there while she gathered even more, until there was a bridge of unparalleled power linked to her conscious mind. She opened her eyes and they glowed from within, a bright blue light that shone in the darkness. The undead was unsure what was happening, so it's rotten brain and magical instructions caused it to charge Verala. She bowed her head; a split second later it whipped up and she threw her hands forward. A fireball screamed towards the undead; it met it head on and the ball exploded. The undead was blown apart by the force of the blast, bits of rotted flesh rained down around Verala. She was oblivious to it.

She had ran over to Kirin, she pressed her hands against her face, willing her eyes to open. She unbuckled the armour and laid an ear against the woman's chest, checking for the life-rhythm that usually beats strong. It was there, but faint. Tears fell from her muddy face, unchecked they landed on Kirin, mingling with the blood to create a strange tapestry of horror on her body.

Verala remembered the scrolls she had with her, and pulled one out. She tore the blue ribbon off and opened it fully. She memorised the words there and spoke them. The scroll vanished in a flash of blue light and a portal, swirling blue and white, opened beside her prone form. She gathered the broken body of her friend into her arms and staggered through the twirling energies.

**Author Note: **

Okay that was the first real chapter, I hope it was more exciting than the introduction. I believe that this was much better, but the bit before this one was needed to explain the beginning really.

I'm not sure how long it will be before the second chapter will be uploaded, but hopefully I will have it done soon.

Please review and comment on the parts you liked/disliked, anything you think I should improve will be appreciated and constructive criticism is always welcomed.


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